Exploring the Legacy of Sir Thomas Browne
When I established this blog in 2012, my primary aim was to challenge entrenched misconceptions and take a closer look at the elements we often take for granted in literature, language, and mythology. This impulse to debunk misconceptions is likely as ancient as writing itself, if not older. In our current 21st-century context, filled with vast amounts of information—and misinformation—this desire has transformed into a crucial necessity.
In the 17th century, one of the most prominent figures in this tradition was Sir Thomas Browne (1605-82). He is described in the introduction to a new book-length exploration of his work as an “English physician, wordsmith, and polymath who contributed hundreds of words to the English language, including terms like medical, electricity, migrant, and computer.” Browne pursued his medical studies across Europe before settling in Norwich, where he practiced medicine while also penning works aimed at a popular, non-specialist audience. His writings encompassed not only medicine, as seen in Religio Medici, but also addressed common errors and misconceptions prevalent in natural history and the broader scientific realm, notably in his seminal work, Pseudodoxia Epidemica, or ‘Vulgar Errors.’
The author of this recent examination of Browne’s contributions is Gavin Francis, who, like Browne, is a practicing physician. I refer to this as a “study,” but it’s more than that; published by the esteemed Oxford University Press as part of their My Reading series, this book allows enthusiasts to explore a particular writer or text and discuss its personal significance. As such, it transcends the boundaries of a dry academic text—this reviewer writes from the confines of a traditional academic setting—emerging instead as a fervent and infectious call to recognize Sir Thomas Browne’s enduring importance as both a writer and a thinker.
In a nod that seems to honor Browne—the great originator and popularizer of numerous now-ubiquitous words—Francis organizes his book around eight pivotal concepts: Ambiguity, Curiosity, Vitality, Piety, Humility, Misogyny, Mobility, and Mortality. He frames these eight chapters with two letters addressed directly to Browne himself.
Francis opens with a letter to Browne, quoting the memorable phrase in which Browne expresses his aspiration to craft a “cosmography of my self.” This sets the tone for the exploration that follows, reflecting on the myriad changes and advancements in medicine, the tragic infant mortality (Browne lost five of his children in infancy), and the introduction of free medical treatment through the establishment of the NHS—all significant developments that have transpired in the three and a half centuries since Browne’s time.
The initial chapter, centered on “Ambiguity,” is particularly compelling, as Francis examines how Browne embraced his innate capacity for ambiguity and resided comfortably within the realm of mystery. This notion resonates with Keats’ concept of Negative Capability, which emerged two centuries later, showcasing how Browne’s understanding of the world transcended the limitations of his own era.
Francis draws a useful distinction between Browne and his near-contemporary, Francis Bacon. While Bacon laid the groundwork for the scientific method, his prose is primarily navigated by historians of science today. In contrast, Browne’s writings continue to captivate “enthusiasts of literature.” This distinction serves as a helpful entry point for readers new to Browne’s work, though I might contend that Bacon’s essays—also published in an accessible volume by Oxford University Press—remain as engaging as those of Montaigne, from whom Bacon drew inspiration for this new form of writing.
The chapter on “Curiosity” is equally insightful, making a strong case for Browne’s ongoing relevance and readability. Virginia Woolf once described a “halo of wonder” encompassing Browne and everything he perceived, depicting a “chamber stuffed from floor to ceiling with ivory, old iron, broken pots, urns, unicorn horns, and magic glasses full of emerald lights and blue mystery.” Francis contemplates whether this vivid description of Browne’s own passion for wonder influenced his visual experience while exploring the “shelves and vitrines of Edinburgh University’s anatomical museum.” It certainly leaves a lasting visual impression.
Francis’ own depictions of Browne’s various experiments are equally memorable. He reveals that Browne engaged in testing substances for their behavior under magnetism, fed various plants (and even glass) to dogs to ascertain their safety, and dissected creatures including horses, pigeons, snails, and toads. He even fed cheese to vipers, kept an ostrich, and conducted experiments involving iron fed to poultry, among other empirical investigations. Remarkably, he even pondered whether elephants “fart from their trunks” and placed a mole in a jar with a toad and a viper to test the hypothesis that moles could be ferocious and deadly above ground.
The entirety of Sir Thomas Browne: The Opium of Time is rich with such fascinating insights into this remarkable figure. Francis skillfully balances personal reflection—with an approach resonant of Browne’s own endeavor to write a “cosmography of my self”—with biographical details. Like other titles in the My Reading series from Oxford University Press, this book is a concise, brisk read designed to ignite interest and provide a pathway into a specific topic. One can easily envision numerous readers inspired to delve deeper into Browne’s works after engaging with this enthusiastic tribute to a fascinating and endlessly inquisitive writer.